HUMOR

By Treasure Brown

An after-school job is supposed to provide you with real-world job experience; it’s supposed to teach you collaboration, financial responsibility, and how to get along with others. My six months working at the self-serve frozen yogurt shop Sweet Frog did none of these things for me. So, instead of lying about how that job changed my life, I am going to tell you about the top four things that customers said, did, and asked that made me want to clock out and never come back. 

Hull Street Sweet Frog location. Photo credit: Yelp user Alan S.

Number one: It really angered me when someone complained about the price of their yogurt, as if the frozen yogurt isn’t self-serve, and they didn’t put it together themselves. At Sweet Frog, the price is based on weight, with the rate being 77 cents per ounce. So when I saw someone coming down the line with an impressively full cup, 17 different toppings, and a look that can only be described as animalistic greed, I eventually learned to mentally prepare myself for the awkward conversation where they would pretend to be absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that their ice cream was $18. 

Yes Mike, it does cost that much. 

No, you weren’t leaning on the scale. 

No, I don’t feel like weighing it again. 

This conversation was usually followed by them mumbling something about not coming back as often, or our store being “expensive.” Quite frankly, I didn’t care if you came back or not; I got paid regardless. 

Once, I had a customer pay for his ice cream while asking if we were having a slow day. When I responded, “Yes,” he said “It must be the inflation” before promptly walking out of the door, not even bothering to take his receipt, obviously shocked by the price of his own cup. Thank you, J.P Morgan, for the unnecessary economics lesson. I definitely appreciate it, as now every time I pass a Sweet Frog, I shudder at the state of our economy. 

Number two: I was annoyed when a customer walked into the store and I said “Hello!” or “How are you?” and got zero response. I will have you know, John, that I did not actually care about how you are doing, but I ask simply out of obligation as an employee. But, since you had the audacity to not respond to my greeting, not only will I mumble unkind comments under my breath, but I hope that you are doing horribly: I hope someone eats your leftovers that you’ve been thinking about all day. I hope you tripped on a rock on the way into the store. I hope that when I go to run your card for your $18 cup of sugar, it sends your account into overdraft.

Number three: when you walk into a store looking for something that is usually on display, only to see that that item or thing is not there, what do you do? In my own experience, I assume that they are sold out or out of stock. This is not what goes on in the minds of most Sweet Frog fans, however. Although I worked at Sweet Frog for less than a year, the amount of times I heard things such as “You guys usually have this flavor,” or “Is there more of that topping in the back?” is not only astounding, but disappointing. When I said “No,” some would just nod or say “Okay.” Others, however, would look at me as if I had grown 12 heads, as if I had just spoken language that had never been uttered before. Then they would say something along the lines of “That’s a shame!” No, what’s a shame is that we are still having this conversation. If it is not out, it is not here. 

Lastly, it’s clear that not only do some Sweet Frog fanatics fail to have conductive reasoning skills, but also lack the ability to read signs. The payment system at the store was relatively outdated, which meant that we could not accept Apple Pay at checkout, which has become very popular, especially among irresponsible teenagers who cannot be trusted with a physical card. 

There was a sign on the outside of the front door, and another taped directly above the cups, which clearly stated our inability to use Apple Pay. Yet somehow, every day, I would still have several people get to checkout with their phone, looking for a place to tap it and use Apple Pay. I was then left having to explain exactly what the posted signage should have already told them, and then stand behind the register, waiting for them to get back with their wallet, which they always conveniently left in the car. 

Unless someone may have had vision problems, these encounters mean they either chose to ignore the two signs or simply could not read. Once, I watched in horror as an elderly man approached the counter alongside several friends that were around the same age. They all put their cups on the scale when he reached for something in his pocket: his phone. Gulp. I started to break out in a cold, nervous sweat as he said “Watch this!” to his friends, the grin on his face growing just as large as the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “This is going to be so cool,” he continued, his friends leaning in with curiosity and excitement. God, please help me. He attempted to impress his friends by paying with his phone, which obviously did not work. I’d never thought I would have to break an elderly man’s heart at a mere 16 years old, but there I was. 

I found the customers’ habits perplexing, and my patience eventually ran out. I have banished all things Sweet Frog from my life, and I have not had a cup of frozen yogurt since I turned in my letter of resignation. I was caught off guard a few weeks ago when I went to get my car washed at my local Flagstop and looked up to find a former co-worker directing cars into the wash. Poor kid. The Apple-Payers finally got to him. 

Despite all of the troubles I faced, I am grateful for my time at Sweet Frog. My co-workers made the long hours more bearable, I learned how to face challenges and cope with conflict, and the company mailed my W-2 in a timely fashion.